Chocolate and Graveyards
by The Quote Bandit
Summary: Dean's missing, Leviathan are still running around, Bobby's gone, Lucifer is still bouncing around his noggin, and Sam's at a loss as how to solve any of those problems. Good thing for him he finds some help from someone he thought was long dead. Nothing explicit ever happens but it gets a high rating because Gabriel's a kinky little bastard who won't shut up about it.
1. Chapter 1

Sam, laying in the back of the Impala nearly passed out with his legs scrunched up because otherwise they won't fit, is drunk.

It was about time, really. It's been five days and he hadn't even looked at alcohol until tonight. He guesses he was still in Well-Adjusted Mode. Or maybe Shock Mode. Then he entered that bar on whim instead of just driving past, and next thing he knew he's being guided to the car and curling up in the back seat with full intentions of passing out.

It almost feels good being back at Dysfunction Junction.

He shifts off his back onto his side, groaning a little as his slowly building headache protests the movement. He tells his head to suck it up because his knees protest louder than his head can.

There's a little more wiggling to do before he finds the perfect comfort spot. He sighs in contentment. Naturally he promptly tilts over and flops on his stomach. He can't be bothered to fix this. His arm falls off and under the seats and his hand brushes against something square.

Sam unwillingly opens his eyes. He has absolutely no idea what this thing can be; Dean always keeps the car OCD clean and Sam makes a point to do the same. Frowning he picks the object up to look at it. His frown deepens.

It's the porno. Not just any old one Dean might've picked up, but The Porno. The one containing Gabriel's last words and instructions and numerous sexual positions that made even Dean gag. That last remnant as far as they knew of the archangel. They don't need it anymore, of course, but neither ever felt right just throwing it away. So it spent all of its time under the seat. Until now of course.

Sam stretches his other arm out into the front seat and feels around until he has his laptop. He drags it back, props it up next to his head (he isn't willing to get up even for this), and pops the DVD in. He feels like he needs to see it again, make sure he preserves the memory of the most obnoxious angel in existence despite the fact that he'll have trouble remembering this entire night in the first place.

"Dear diary. Being a high powered business president is super fun. But sooooo hard."

Sam barely registers the woman lying on the bed in lingerie; she's not the important part. The mustachioed room service man is the only thing that matters here. If only he can keep his eyes open.

"Sam, Dean. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on."

There he is. Sam smiles sleepily. Gabriel may have been a giant dick to them, but it's sort of hard to hate a guy who leaves his last words in the form of bad porn. That whole saving-their-asses-and-trying-to-kill-Lucifer-for-them thing sort of balances out the earlier dick moves, too. Filled with a contentment emphasized by the buzzing beer still in his system, he closes his eyes and let's the sound of Gabriel explaining wash over and carry him to sleep.

Sam wakes up with a blistering headache and a odd weight on his back. He groans (which makes the headache feel worse) and tries to turn over.

"Woah there, cowboy. Take it slow and easy. Looks like you got yourself well and wasted there."

Sam's eyes snap open at the sound of an impossible voice. Couldn't be...He struggles to turn over to see if he's hearing things, but the weight sitting on him pins him down.

"Now, now," tuts the voice as Sam flounders. "If you'll wait one second..." There's a fluttering of wings and the weight disappears. Sam struggles up into a sitting position (oh God his head just exploded) and looks around wildly to find the source of the voice. His eyes lock onto the front seat where the source is smirking at him. His jaw drops.

"Gabriel?"

"The one and only."

Sam gapes openly. "But...how...?"

"The DVD, Sam. Took you long enough to finally pop it in again. I was starting to worry that I was never getting out but I knew I shouldn't've lost faith in you, kiddo."

Sam blinks and rubs the bridge of his nose. The thunking of his head and roiling of his stomach makes it hard to think. "Wait," he says finally. "You were in the DVD the whole time? How is that even possible?"

"Trick of an archangel. Put a little of your grace in an image of yourself and it can become you. After being observed, of course. Then walla! Instant backup you." Gabriel's smirk deepens and Sam gets the impression he's waiting for Sam to sound impressed. Unfortunately he's too busy fighting through brain funk.

"So if you had to be observed to get out, then why not when Dean and I watched it just after you died?"

"After observing, you moron. Not while. You two knuckleheads never stopped looking at the DVD so I never had the chance. You turning it on and passing out gave me just the opportunity."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Look, I really don't want to get in a debate about quantum locks. It worked. I'm here." He stretches his neck. "A little rest to regain my missing grace and I'll be good as new." Another flutter and he's gone. Sam nearly releases a few choice curses until he catches Gabriel outside the car, looking around. He grumbles and opens the door like a normal person.

A bad idea of course. The soft morning light feels like two heat lamps pressed directly against his sockets, and if he thought he had a headache before the blistering needles in his skull prove otherwise. God he hates hangovers.

"You alright there, Sasquatch?" Gabriel says as he saunters over. He looks up into Sam's face with a cocked head and raised eyebrow (and a goddamn smirk) and Sam feels distinctly uncomfortable about it.

"Just a headache," he mutters. He closes his eyes and pinches his bridge again to will the pain away. He isn't willing to open his eyes and face the sun just yet.

"Ahh, knew I smelled booze," Gabriel says. "Must've been a lot of it to make you pass out. I don't want to seem ungrateful, so here's a little something." He touches Sam's forehead and (thank God) the headache and nausea building in his stomach disappear.

"Thanks," he sighs in relief, opening his eyes in time to see Gabriel lower his arm.

"It's the least I can do. What's with the bender, anyway? Things seem pretty Apocalypse free. Congratulations, by the way."

Sam face falters, and he looks down at his shoes.

"It's-"

"Where's Dean?"

He stares at the archangel. So many things can be said about Gabriel, but slow on the uptake is apparently not one of them. "You picked up on that fast," he says finally.

"Not too hard to figure out. You two are always connected to the hip. Only major period of time I've seen you two apart is that Tuesday"-Sam's jaw twitches at the mention of that particular prank and Gabriel speeds past it-"and when he went to Hell." He pauses and frowns in thought. "He's not in Hell again, is he?"

"No," he snaps, not even wanting to consider the possibility. He takes a breath and forces his voice into a more level tone. "I don't know. It's possible, I guess, but I don't think so. He's missing though. Six days ago I woke up in D.C and looked over at his bed and he just...wasn't there. His stuff was there, the keys were still on the table, no note. He hadn't gone out for a second, or gone to get a bite to eat. He was just...gone. No sulfur, no EMF, hex bags, nothing." The memory of that day and the next, rushing around town looking for Dean, tearing apart their room, trying to find anything that could tell him where his brother was while not panicking like he wanted to, plays in the back of his mind. He tries to push the memory panic down; he can't deal with it here. Not with Gabriel.

All remaining traces of mockery finally fall off of Gabriel's face. "No traces of anything?" he says.

"Well, for the most part. When I was looking through the room I found some of this on the floor next to the door." He opens the passenger door to reach in the glove compartment and grab a plastic bag. He hands it to Gabriel who holds it up to eye level and studies it.

"That's just rock and dirt," he declares. He switches his gaze from the gravel in his hands to Sam's face. "Doesn't look special. You sure it wasn't just stuck in your boots?"

Sam shrugs helplessly. "It's the only lead I got. I was driving out to a university to use one of their labs when, well..."

There's that smirk again. "You found a bar and decided to wallow a little," he snorts. "Well, luckily you got me."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up. "You're offering to help?" he laughs. Gabriel puts on a face of mock-offense.

"Hey, I'm a nice guy! Stand up citizen," he grins. "Besides, I got nothing better to do. I don't feel like going to Heaven just yet, ya know? Family reunions are always awkward. "

He snorts. "That's probably for the best. Heaven just went through a hell of a time and they're probably rebuilding as we speak."

"What happened?"

Sam's half smile falters. Right. Gabriel hasn't been around for awhile. "A civil war happened," he says, not knowing how to break the news in any other way but bluntly. "You've missed a lot."

"What? You can't be serious. Angels don't fight each other. We aren't programmed like that."

"Micheal and Lucifer were."

"That's different. How-" Gabriel falters and wavers. His face turns pale and he seems to have difficulty even standing. If Sam doesn't know he's an archangel he would think he's going to /faint./

"Hey hey, are you okay?" he says, taking a step forward just in case the guy collapses.

Gabriel puts a hand against the car to stabilize himself and shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says. "Just got a little..." He shakes his head again. "I'm not running on full steam and healing your hangover took more out of me than I thought. I couldn't exactly put a lot of grace in my image. I just need to snooze for awhile. A couple hundred years sounds pretty...good." His knees buckle with the last words and he would've fallen to the ground if Sam didn't grab him first.

"Woah man. I got you." Sam eases the almost passed out angel into the already open door and shuts it carefully. He slides into the driver's seat and starts up the car. "Let's get you on a bed."

"Make it out of chocolate and you're my hero," Gabriel mutters. Sam can't tell if he's being serious or not but he doesn't have the chance to ask; the angel's already out for the count.

It's weird, he decides, two miles down the road. He can probably count the number of times he's seen an angel sleep on one hand, and all of them were Castiel after getting severely injured. He supposes getting killed counts as severely injured. Gabriel doesn't seem too worse for wear, though, other then the whole fainting thing. As long as he was joking about sleeping for a few centuries.

Sam sighs. A comatose archangel, a missing brother, and a very dubious lead. Oh yeah, and Leviathans still out there doing whatever it is they're planning.

"Don't forget about me, Sam. You wouldn't count out your old friend Lucifer, would you?"

Simple problems are overrated, anyway.

* * *

**Lookie here. I'm back from the fanficwriting dead and I have been resurrected into the Supernatural fandom. Awesome.  
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**Hopefully this'll get beta'd by someone else other than me soon. Until then feel free to point out any spelling/grammar errors you see.  
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**A note: this is not a Sabriel fic, technically. In that I didn't really intend for it to be one.  
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**It sort of ended up sounding like pre-slash, though.  
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**Whatevies.  
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**EDIT: Hardcore edit-time is going to happen as Felix-bot is not happy with this and also the plot-processors have finally loaded a plan for the story.  
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**This chapter's safe because Felix-bot is pretty happy with this and it doesn't conflict with the new algorithms. Read the next two at your own risk, though.  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Your words of praise and favorites fill me with happy. I hope I will fufill expectations.**

**Until then, here's a boring smallish transition chapter while I figure out where the hell (probably not there) I want this fic to go.  
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**I think I've got an idea of what happens. Lemme play with it. This is the problem of accidentally writing a series beginning when you only meant to write a quick oneshot to explain a pet theory all while doing NaNoWriMo.  
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******But I should've mentioned before. This is placed post 7.10.** Also yes, to answer the unasked question. Weeping angels.  


**Uninteresting. Back to fic words.  
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* * *

"Oh, you're up. Coffee?"

"Nyegggh."

"Oh, sorry. Do angels even drink coffee?"

"Sure, but I'd rather shove it up your ass. Stop sounding so chipper; it's too early."

"It's 2 o'clock, Gabriel. PM."

"Exactly. Too early."

Sam hides his grin behind the coffee Gabriel refused. He probably shouldn't be laughing at an archangel powerful enough to smite him by just blinking, but hey, it is kinda funny watching an angel reluctantly inch out of bed like a teenager being told to get ready for school.

Honestly, Sam is just relieved he's awake at all. It didn't take Gabriel centuries to wake up from his semi-coma (which Sam is eternally grateful for because lugging around an archangel, no matter how small of a package, is not his idea of a good time). It did, however, take him two days.

"There isn't any rush for you," he says once he's sure the grin is gone. Or at least under control. "I appreciate you offering help, I do, but if you really need the rest I can find Dean myself."

"Oh now that's a lie. All you have is some rocks to go on. Being polite is good and all Sam, but you know you don't have the marbles to do this alone." Lucifer punctuates his insult by bouncing a tennis ball off Sam's head. Sam, like always, ignores him.

"Yeah, yeah," Gabriel says dismissively. "Don't worry about me. My mojo will come back with time, and until then I don't want to spend it snoozing." He looks at the floor next to the bed and heaves a sigh and shows herculean effort by finally rolling out of bed. Sam blinks and the archangel is holding a donut and what seems to be hot chocolate. Cheater. "As long as I don't use my powers unnecessarily I'll be fine."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Like that?"

"What? This is totally necessary. You don't look like you have any."

He rolls his eyes as Gabriel sits down across from him, but drops the subject and turns back to his laptop. He pretends not to notice when Gabriel summons a candy bar and uses it to stir the large quantities of marshmallows in his drink.

"You better be watching some quality porn if you're going to ignore me like that."

Sam raises an eyebrow (he really shouldn't be surprised) but acts as if that translated to "what are you looking at and is it important" because in all probability it did. "I'm retracing me and Dean's steps in D.C to figure out what we might've stumbled into," he answers. Gabriel just looks at him over his mug and Sam takes it as a cue to continue. "I finally got that gravel analyzed; it's granite and bronze flakes. Pretty old, too. We went to a lot of cemeteries on the hunt, so I'm thinking whatever left the gravel came from one of them."

Gabriel leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on the table and gnaws on his candy bar. "Any chance one of you two just got some stuck in your boots and tracked it in?"

Sam frowns. "Possible, but there was too much of it, and it was in piles, like when you knock over a salt shaker, not ground in the floor like when you step on it," he says after a moment's thought. "And anyway, even if that is the case, graveyard's as good of a place as any to start looking around."

Gabriel nods. "Now that makes sense. You two doing your thing, probably digging up God knows what. Probably pissed off something. What were you doing anyway that made you go to all those graveyards? I'm guessing it wasn't to see the sights or mingle with the locals."

He hopes Gabriel isn't trying to make a joke about necrophilia. He probably is. "Long story short, a couple ghouls made a big mess and riled up a whole bunch of angry spirits. Took us a week and five graveyards to salt and burn everyone."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it. My shoulders didn't work right for days from digging up all those graves."

"Didn't you check the graveyards already? I thought I remembered you saying you checked everywhere for Dean."

Lucifer grins like a little kid from the chair next to Sam. "It's a bit of my fault. Ever since Bobby he hasn't been able to ignore me as much as he used to, so I celebrated by singing Thriller every time he tried to go into a cemetery. I think it made it hard for him to concentrate."

Sam grimaces (the damn song is still stuck in his head) and digs his thumb into the barely healed scar. Lucifer sighs but leaves Sam's sight without too much fanfare.

"I did check them," he says finally. "But I didn't find anything, and I didn't have a clue as to what I was looking for." Plus, now he has an archangel, albeit a depowered and very immature one.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him, but accepts the lie. "Sounds good enough to me, I guess. But first there's something more important that needs to be taken care of."

It's Sam's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"You gotta fill me in on what's happened." He pulls his feet off the table and leans forward, more intent on Sam than before. "For starters, how the hell did you guys manage to actually stop the Apocalypse? I mean, that is what you did, right? I know I told you about the rings, but I thought there was no way you would actually manage to shove Lucy back in."

"Telling us about the rings really was what got us going. We already had two, War and Famine, and Death gave us his, so getting the rings wasn't the hard part, and Death showed Dean how to link all the rings together and open the cage."

"Okay, believable. But how'd you get Lucifer to go in? It's not like he would go in willingly."

"No, he didn't. He-" Sam pauses, trying to figure out just how he can explain before deciding with just going with the blunt facts. "I said yes."

"You did what?"

"I said yes, and I took control at the last minute, and I jumped in the cage with Lucifer. Micheal fell with me."

"Wait wait wait wait. Hold on for just a second," Gabriel interjects, waving a hand wildly to make sure he got Sam's attention. "You took control? From an archangel?"

"Yes."

"And your entire plan hinged on you taking control?"

"Yeah."

"And jumping in the pit with Lucifer?"

" Yeah?"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

Sam glares at the angel. "Look, it worked, didn't it? No Apocalypse. Micheal and Lucifer in the cage. Everything is fine."

"Yeah, except for the whole part of throwing yourself in with them!" Gabriel wipes at his face and looks at Sam as if he can't possibly imagine anyone reaching those levels of stupidity. "Don't you know anything about self-preservation? I mean, jeez, I knew you and your brother got your kicks with self-sacrifice, but this...I mean, you royally pissed Mike and Lucy off, and you just threw yourself in with them with no way out and nothing to do but-wait." He stops his tirade long enough to stare at Sam. He tilts his head and frowns suspiciously. "How did you get out? It took Lucifer millenia to get out, and you get out in, what two years?"

"A year and a half. I was down there a year and a half before Death pulled my soul out."

"A year and a-" He shakes his head. "That's...hold on." He looks down for a moment in thought. Sam shifts uncomfortably when he sees the moment Gabriel makes the connection and horror, actual horror flicks across his face.

"That's almost 200 years Hell-time, kid," he manages finally. "How is your soul still intact? How are you still standing?"

He shifts again. This really isn't a good topic. "Apparently it was in pretty bad shape when Death found it, but he put up a wall between my me and my memories of the cage."

"Which keeps you from drooling. And it works?"

No. "Yes." Gabriel looks surprised and Sam almost thinks he might catch him on the lie and Sam /really/ doesn't want Gabriel involved in his little break down because it's under control. Even with what's happened with Bobby. And now Dean. "Sometimes things get through, and I'll remember," he quickly adds. "But mostly I don't."

"Tsk tsk, Sam. You know, lying is a sin. And to my brother? That's got to count for something extra." Lucifer leans in close and smirks. "It certainly counts more for me."

Sam digs his thumb into his skin again, so hard he's scared he'll actually draw blood. He can't see Lucifer, but he can feel his breath against his neck and his words in his ear but it doesn't matter because Sam can send Lucifer away whenever he wants.

"For now, anyway."

Gabriel accepts the second lie and completely misses Sam's shiver.


	3. Chapter 3

**I made inappropriate comments about one of my commenter's butts, and I sincerely apologize on behalf of the company.  
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**I assure you that circuitry has been removed for repair and rewiring, and I promise to work hard to make sure something like this never happens again.  
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**In fic related news, figured out where I'm going with this. Sort of. Feels good.  
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**EDIT: I noticed today that somewhere in transferring this to , the first sentence was deleted. Annoying, but repaired.  
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* * *

Gabriel kicks a rock under the car and heaves a sigh so theatrical Brian Blessed would be proud.

"This is boring," he announces loud enough so Gigantor climbing out of the driver's side can hear him. "Can't we call it a day? Let's head back to that fudge shop we passed two graveyards ago. I could do with some fudge right now."

The side of Sam's jaw twitches and he slams the door closed with bit more force than needed, which is about the biggest reaction Gabriel's been able to get out of him all day. A twitch. Sometimes a half-hearted glare. That's it. Gabriel doesn't usually have to work this hard to annoy someone into submission.

Then again, this is the brother of Dean Winchester. It's to be expected.

(But he is being completely honest here; following Sam around and pretending to care about little details _is_ boring, and he really does want fudge. See, this is the problem with being unable to fly father than a short hop. He has to actually rely on other people for transportation. Seriously, how do people cope with non-instantaneous travel? It's only been a day and it's already lost the novelty.)

"This is the second to last cemetery," Sam says with a voice that says "I'm trying to be reasonable to the hyperactive nine year old" and straightens his jacket. "Might as well check them all out today."

"Aw come on, you know you've been thinking about that girl standing out on the street with those samples all day. Nice and petite, cute little skirt and a silver tray. I bet she'd look even better with that skirt on the ground and all those chocolates covering her nip-"

"Dude!" Sam interrupts. Gabriel smirks at Sam's glare. "I know this isn't exactly your thing, but if you're gonna follow me around, at least concentrate on the job, not some girl we walked past three hours ago."

Gabriel's grin widens. "Should've known you were vanilla. Tell you what; you get vanilla with her, then_ I'll_ get her and show her a real good time. Sound like a plan?"

Sam very pointedly ignores Gabriel and walks past the archangel into the cemetery, not even deigning to look at him.

(He also, Gabriel notes with glee as he saunters behind, doesn't deny either suggestion. He makes a quick note to hold that against Sam later; he's thinking seven girls, Sam's bed, wearing clothing only made out of chocolate and not much of it. Maybe add a light rain of white chocolate, coming from the sprinker system. Mm, that might be too much. He wonders what the Sasquatch looks like blushing.)

Stone Creek Cemetery, at first glance, is exactly like all the other cemeteries Sam has dragged him in. Lots of gravestones; lots of statues; lots of dead people. Gabriel's suprised to find he recognizes some of the names; hell, one of them he put in himself. (Dirtbag of a politician who never shut up about abortion and how evil it is and how any woman who considers it is a Godless heathen and blah blah blah and Gabriel really doesn't care about the issue but the guy was a real dick about it so Gabriel decided to impregnate him. Turns out men aren't used to having babies. Also turns out men aren't really keen on having babies. Also turns out stabbing your stomach with a steak knife is not a safe way to have an abortion.)

Nothing really interesting, though. He glances over in Sam's general direction. He's checking some meter or something, Gabriel can't be bothered to figure it out. Gabriel shrugs and strolls off in the other direction. There's a big grove of trees in the back that look promising. Nice and shady; perfect for a nap. Not something he's used to doing, but definitely something he can get used to.

As he gets closer he feels something tugging at his senses, just a bit, forcing him to a standstill. Not a full angel or a demon, but definitely something if only he can put his finger on _what_. Frowning, he stretches his wings just a little and pulls himself into the grove.

And sighs. His life, he can already tell, is about to get needlessly complicated.

"Sam!" he yells. "Get your butt over here; I just found what we're looking for.

It takes Sam all of twenty seconds to cross the cemetery and enter the grove. He finds an elaborate memorial with granite pavement and wing-decorated benches and a bronze statue of a robed woman sitting on a granite chair. The woman, the cloth of her shroud leaving only her face and hands visible, stares out into nothing with an unreadable expression. It would be peaceful, with the trees obscuring the rest of the graveyard, if the statue wasn't so...unsettling.

Gabriel's standing within arm's reach of the statue and staring right back like he thinks if he stares long enough it'll start dancing.

"What is it?" he asks, nodding at the statue.

Gabriel continues to stare at the statue, but his expression turns thoughtful. "I don't think humans ever got around to making a word for them," he says finally. "But angels used to call them _raclir murifri_."

"Enochian?"

He nods. It catches Sam off guard a bit; he rarely hears angels speak Enochian and coming out of Gabriel? Kinda weird.

"So, they related to angels or something?"

He hesitates before shaking his head. "Or something. For all intents and purposes they're closer to reapers. Been around for awhile, but there aren't many of 'em. I haven't seen one in...since the First War. Have a habit of squatting at graveyards to protect Earthbound souls. Give a little haven until they figure out their afterlife."

"Well that's good, right? Protecting graveyards and preventing angry spirits."

"Sure, if you're not a hunter digging up and defiling corpses on a daily basis."

Sam doesn't have a good response to that, so he just nods and studies the statue. It doesn't look dangerous (or even mobile) but looks are always deceiving.

"So if this is what got Dean," he says cautiously. "What did it do with him? Did it...," he stops. He doesn't even want to think about that, let alone voice it. Gabriel reads between the lines.

"I don't think she killed him," he says quickly. "Not their style, although one or two of them were a little ax-crazy back in the day. No, they're more into sending threats off somewhere else so someone else can deal with them."

"Like where?"

"Well, if we're lucky, the past is pretty popular."

Sam grimaces. He supposes, for an archangel who's used to having any time period at the snap of his fingers, finding someone in the past is just as difficult as finding someone in Antarctica. For someone stuck on a more linear path, however, it didn't bode well.

"And if we're unlucky?" he presses.

Gabriel shrugs, nonchalant. "If we're unlucky," he says, pausing a bit for that little dramatic flair. If he had the juice he'd make thunder crash for extra zing. "If we're unlucky, he got sent to another dimension."

* * *

"But what is it?"

"Does it move?"

"Why is it so big?"

"I bet it's a spy."

"Why would anyone want to spy on us?"

"Not to spy on us, you leaf, a _captured_ spy."

"Well it's not a very good spy then, is it?"

"Bet it's a Spring Court sylph."

"Sylph have wings, you idiot."

"Your spawn have wings."

"Is it dead?"

"I think it's a robot."

"Poke it; see if it is dead or not."

"Poke it in the eyes!"

Dean groans. His head is throbbing and the annoying high pitched voices are not helping. They're so fucking shrill he can't even block them out, let alone understand them. Hell of a wakeup call. He tries to remember last night. Had he drank or eaten anything weird? Smoked anything funny? Weird after effect, whatever it was.

"Look! It moved!"

"Poke it!"

Something buzzes around his nose and without thinking or opening his eyes he swats it. It screams.

"AIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Marla!"

"Marla, are you okay!"

"Why you!...Let me go! I'm going to rip his fucking eyes out!"

Dean snaps open his eyes just in time to see an oncoming missile diving for his face. Before he even really looks at whatever it is he rolls away into a crouch and the missile plows past and buries itself into the hardwood floor with a sickening _crack_.

Blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dean's eyes dart around for any more dangers. He's in a prison cell (he's been in enough to know the look) with stone walls and an iron bar door and a strangely well-kept darkwood floor that seems out of place. There aren't many furnishings, just a large bed and one very fancy toilet, just as out of place as the floor if not more, with more buttons than a toilet really needs that remind him of something from Japan he saw on the Internet. Those don't interest him too much, though.

What interests him are the four one-foot tall people miserably huddling around the crater created by the tiny missile.

"...The fuck are you midgets?" he manages finally after gaping for more than a minute. He's of course completely ignored.

"Marla!" wails one of the taller midgets (yeah, that's not an oxymoron). "Speak to me!"

"She'll be fine, Jir," the oldest midget says sympathetically. He pats the weeping (fucking _weeping_; even little guys need pride) guy on the back. "Just a knock on the noggin. Nothing big."

"But look at her!" he chokes. "She's flattened! Oh, things will never be the same again."

"She'll bounce back," says the other guy-midget. His brilliant green hair sort of put a damper on any seriousness he might go for. Reminds Dean of an Oompa Loompa. Gene Wilder, not the weird Depp one. Minus the carrot skin.

He shakes his head. Not what he needs to be concentrating on right now.

"Hey!" he yells, trying to get the midget's attention. They look up, startled. The crying one, Jir he thinks, sniffles. "Mind telling me what's going on here?" Also what are you, where I am, oh, and if it's not too much to ask, mind telling me how I can gank one of you guys just in case you turn out to be tiny people eaters? Thanks.

The older one blinks and adjusts his glasses. He stares at Dean with an intensity that reminds him a bit of Cas before he went postal, although it's a bit less 'Dean, I'm looking at your soul' and more of 'I wonder if you could survive without your liver'. Not comfortable.

"Are you a robot?" he asks finally, deadpan. He's still scrutinizing Dean like the guy who wants to dissect him and put him back together again.

Really not comfortable.

"No," he says slowly. Weird question.

"Are you positive?" Dr. Frankenstein presses. "No mechanical parts? No off switches?"

"No, I'm-hey! Hands off!" Mid-sentence he has to shake off the one girl midget who's feeling up his back for no apparent reason other than to be really creepy. "I'm flesh and blood human." he says, glaring at the girl. She skatters off behind the old guy. "Now what the hell are you guys?"

"You're a human?" pipes up the girl, peering around Frankenstein with the same wide eyes he'd expect a little girl who just saw a unicorn would have.

Dean's eyebrows rise. "Yeah, so? Something special about that?"

Frankenstein snaps his fingers and Dean can almost see the lightbulb above his head. "That answers what you are then."

"What?"

He coughs (squeaks; even with the gruffest voice of the bunch it's still high pitched) and collects himself looking for all the world like a professor about to give a lecture. "If you are a human, that means you are a first born, taken as payment for some deal, yes?"

"Well, I am four years older, but-"

"Which means," Frankenstein says triumphantly. "Which means you will either be impressed into the Autumn Court army or eaten."

Dean stares. Full on stares. "Sorry, what?" he manages.

"If it makes you feel any better, I was hoping you'd be a spy," the Oompa Loompa grumps.

Dean glares at Oompa Loompa. "Yeah, that doesn't help. Look." he shifts up onto the balls of his feet and out of the less comfortable, more battle ready position and into one better designed for looming over midgets. "Nobody's eating me. And no one's going to put me in whatever Court's army, okay? I'm-"

Something clicks in his head mid-rant, and he begins piecing it together. First born. He remembers those words being used with making a deal, 'bout a year ago, before Sam got his soul back. He flicks his eyes over to the crater. Flattened in the wood a woman, completely naked (kinda hot, bit too flat for his taste, though) with wings. Looks like a pixie.

Like a fairy.

"Are we..." he swallows, because he's really hoping he's wrong here. "Are we in Fairy?"

Frankenstein nods proudly. "Correct! Here I thought humans were complete idiots. You're in Autumn Court, too be exact, which might not be the best place for a first visit, but-"

The old midget keeps talking but Dean can't listen. He's in Fairy. He's in fucking Fairy. He's in Candyland, again, surrounded by a bunch of midget fairies with squeaky voices and one pixie who tried to dive-bomb him, and he doesn't have a convenient ticket back home like did last time.

Shit.

* * *

**I'm more than a little proud about where Dean is.**

**Probably will be continuing Dean's storyline, but probably not in this fic. He'll probably get his own. It sort of doesn't match the mood for the rest of it, and I just wanted people to know where I shoved Dean.  
**

**For those interested in the statue, this is what it looks like:  
**

**en {dot} wikipedia {dot} org {slash} wiki/File:Adams_Memorial_by_Augustus_ **

**This is the original statue. A copy of this statue can be found in Maryland, where it supposedly will send you to hell or just flat out kill you if you sit on it.  
**

**I highly encourage you to look at it. Specifically at night. In the dark. It's very comforting.  
**


End file.
